


The Return (DreamSMP War oneshot)

by paladinnether



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Injury, DreamSMP - Freeform, DreamSMP War, Editor Wilbur ARG, Explosions, Family Dynamic AU, Family Issues, KINDA SPOILERS FOR NOVEMBER 16TH, L’Manburg, L’manburg finale, Pogtopia, Possession, War, Wilbur actually isn’t a villain he just got possessed, Wilbur tried his best but it didn’t work, ghost!editor, i believe in villain!wilbur and ghost!Editor Wilbur supremacy, i have editor wilbur brainrot, schlatt (mentioned) - Freeform, villain!wilbur, we’re not betas we die like real men, wilbur goes and gets himself killed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:40:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27597658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paladinnether/pseuds/paladinnether
Summary: Wilbur, the most respected man in L’manburg, is exiled and spiraling into insanity.Behind the scenes, a vengeful spirit with a grudge against the former president, sees his opportunity for revenge, once and for all.aka ghost!editor!wilbur possession fic lets gooooooothis is also my first fic on ao3–
Comments: 4
Kudos: 112





	The Return (DreamSMP War oneshot)

**Author's Note:**

> please watch the Editor Wilbur ARG if you haven’t already, because that’s what this fic is mainly about (editor wilbur is literally the main character-) it’s an amazing series, and i promise you won’t regret it

Wilbur felt that something was off for a long time. After the election, being forced to flee and take shelter in a cave, exiled from the place he worked so hard to create. He felt himself slowly growing more and more insane.

Everyone around him thought he was just delusional, or power-hungry, or jealous of Schlatt for having all the power. But no, it was something more. _Something else._

He didn’t quite know what it was, but he felt like something was taking his brain hostage, almost like his thoughts weren’t his own anymore. Now, he sits in front of the button, in a small, sealed stone chamber, carved out beneath the L’manburg stage, with the lyrics of the national anthem hastily scrawled all over the walls.

He could hear his father trying to talk him out of pushing the button. But he couldn’t say a word. All the words coming out of his mouth were _not his. He didn’t even feel like he was in his own body anymore._

He was trying to cling on to the last tethers of his sanity, but it was futile.

His hand moved up towards the button, and he stared at it.

Then it was pushed.

Wilbur watched as the TNT detonated, completely destroying his country.

_His home. Everyone he loved._

He dropped his sword, a loud clang heard in the now-exposed stone chamber.

"Phil, kill me." He said, with a manic expression on his face.

"Do it, Phil." - "Wilbur, you’re my son! I can’t!"

"I’ve won. This is it. IF I CAN’T HAVE MY PERFECT L’MANBURG, NOBODY CAN." He screamed, in a manic rage.

Then he felt a sharp pain in his chest. He dropped to the floor, in pain. Wilbur looked up to see his father Phil, and in his hands, the enchanted sword that he had dropped to the ground in a manic request for the release of death.

"You couldn’t just leave well enough alone, could you? You couldn’t just accept the things the way they were. You had to go and ruin it for everyone. You had to go and ruin it for your brother and his friend. Who were finally happy."

_"You’re no son of mine. Not anymore."_

Wilbur gradually felt himself slipping away into an empty expanse, his body just laying there in the exposed bomb chamber, that faced out at the crater that was L’manburg.

Phil dusted off his clothes, his shirt caked in dust and residue from the massive explosion. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and stop your older brother from spawning a fuck ton of withers and murdering everyone."

Phil broke down the stone barricade that Wilbur had used to keep people out of the chamber. He looked back at his son. _The manic, delusional shell, of what was once his son._

"Goodbye, Wilbur."

And just like that, he walked out. Leaving his son there, to die. In the crater, the remains of the country that he had worked so hard to build, and take back.

But then, _he woke up._ Still feeling the pain in his chest, he slowly got himself into a sitting position, and slowly looked at his hands, like it was the first time he’d ever seen them.

"It’s been a long time since i’ve felt this happy. I haven’t had a euphoria rush like this since I won. Since I got the job." He looked out at the bomb crater.

"What a mess we’ve made. Shame it had to end this way." He laughed.

"It’s been so long since I’ve felt...alive. I had my doubts about this..rather elaborate plan of mine, but I think things are better this way, after all. People here hate him now, think he’s a lost cause, a traitor, and now I can flee, make my perfect escape, in the guise of his skin." - "Or, rather, _in my skin._ "

He ran to Pogtopia, the now-abandoned fugitive cave structure, covered in buttons and filled with silence.

"Why did he pick a ravine to live in, of all places? It’s so cold, and it’s really dark in here. Would it kill him to light a couple torches? Or lanterns, even?" - "Not like it really makes a difference to me anyway. I’m just tired of feeling cold." He walked down the stairs, across the bridges, and down to Wilbur’s bedroom, and his storage room.

"There they are. Finally, I can feel like myself again." He grabbed circular-rimmed glasses off of a nightstand, and a black suit-jacket off a hook. "Still feel cold, but it helps."

He grabbed some other essentials, like food, water, the laptop that always sat on Wilbur’s desk, and made his escape. He ran as far away from L’manburg as he could, as fast as humanly possible.

_He ran, from Wilbur. Wilbur, who he knew would soon become a spirit just like he was, and hunt him down and try to take back control, like he just did. Wilbur, whose dead body would still be laying there, in the stone detonation chamber, if he weren’t pulling all the strings like he was. And if he wasn’t there to take control when it finally became a vacant vessel, he’d rot there. And that’s just a waste of a perfect form._

"Now..which way is Greenwich? I need to take a train, or a plane, or something."

"After all, I have a job to do. I have a quota to meet. I can’t disappoint my boss, that’d make me a bad editor. And I just can’t bear the possibility of being replaced again."


End file.
